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Chapter 21: Expansion, Part 2
"How perplexing," the female mercenary commander muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. She watched the mercenaries cleaning up the battlefield within the lumber mill and couldn’t help but remark, "I can’t say I understand what we’re fighting for anymore. But still..."
She sighed. "This outcome is... tolerable, at least."
Frein glanced at her and nodded.
"That young man is quite remarkable—for a noble, that is," he replied. "Ever since I left the Karasu army, I’ve lost faith in nobility. But now, he’s starting to change my perspective. For mercenaries, becoming a noble’s retainer isn’t necessarily a bad thing—though being coerced into it does leave a bitter taste."
"Hmph." Clenxia snorted derisively, his silver hair catching the dim light as he turned to regard the two. "It’s simple: expectations don’t match reality. If it had been Grudin instead of this youth who recruited us, I doubt you’d feel so reluctant. This young lord is still inexperienced, and it’s clear he’s using us to achieve his goals."
"Thinking about it that way, it’s hard not to grow suspicious," he continued. "If he merely sees my men as pawns, I won’t let him have his way."
"Grudin is an established ruler, but this young man acts independently," Frein countered. "Regardless of my personal feelings, I must consider my men. Their lives depend on my decisions."
Hearing their exchange, Yuta gave a soft snort and turned away. Her reasons for forming a mercenary band differed from theirs—it was born out of resistance against noble oppression. Yet here she was, once again dealing with the very people she despised.
Once, it was to protect her only sister—but now, even that bond was gone. The female mercenary commander sighed, feeling adrift, unsure of what purpose remained. Still, she couldn’t fully agree with Clenxia’s words.
The three instinctively fell silent, their gazes drawn outside the lumber mill. Tiger Finch and his cavalry were slowly approaching—their young lord had arrived.
Every mercenary paused their tasks, heads turning toward the commotion. Among mercenaries, judging a leader’s worth was straightforward: could they lead them to victory?
Brandon had achieved the impossible twice already, turning near-certain defeats into miraculous triumphs. Whispers of his mysterious nature only added to his growing legend. It was clear to all present that he might be the one they would follow—whether willingly or otherwise. Neither Clenxia, Yuta, nor Frein sought to dissuade such thoughts.
Truthfully, even they struggled to foresee where events would lead after that fateful night in Cold Fir City. But one thing was certain: without Brandon, their only recourse would be venturing deeper into the Black Forest.
A unique, powerful lord capable of delivering victories—a beacon of hope amidst the looming shadow of Earl Jandel. Though uncertainty lingered, each victory under Brandon’s command stoked faint optimism. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could defy the odds time and again. Even the three leaders harbored a glimmer of blind anticipation.
Clenxia surveyed the gathering crowd, confident that the mercenaries would cheer when Brandon rode into the lumber mill. Such was their nature—rough-hewn and passionate, quick to honor those who earned their respect.
Yet when Tiger Finch and his riders entered the compound, silence reigned.
Where was Brandon?
Behind the procession stood the composed noblewoman Antietta and Roma, who swayed fearlessly atop her horse—but no sign of their young lord.
"What’s going on?" Yuta stepped forward first, her tone sharp.
Antietta met her gaze coolly. This wasn’t the first time they interacted with each other, but the seasoned mercenary commander found no advantage over the aristocratic young woman. Antietta responded calmly:
"The lord has ordered defenses prepared. The cave dwellers may regroup by late night and launch an attack. Silence spells won’t work indefinitely. He instructed your wizards not to hold back—reinforce and heighten the palisades. Complete everything before the Witch King constellation rises."
Yuta frowned, realization dawning. Before she could speak, Frein placed a hand on her shoulder, urging restraint. The towering man looked up at Antietta.
"When will the lord return? Only he truly understands the cave dwellers’ tactics and habits. Without him, holding out through the night will be difficult."
"I’m here, aren’t I?" Antietta replied smoothly. "The lord said if you survive tonight, he’ll grant you victory."
"Survive tonight," Clenxia interjected skeptically. "Easier said than done. From previous battles, the number of cave dwellers in this forest likely exceeds a thousand. I find it hard to believe they’d station nearly a third of their forces at the outermost lumber mill. That defies logic, especially for a race accustomed to constant warfare."
Antietta’s expression didn’t falter. "commander, nothing comes without cost."
Roma chimed in with a cheerful grin. "For merchants, risk and opportunity go hand in hand. Auntie says clever people are bold yet cautious—and I will grow up to be clever too!"
Clenxia said nothing further, tacitly accepting the statement.
"What do you think?" Yuta turned to Frein, lowering her voice.
"What choice do we have?" Frein shrugged. "That young man doesn’t trust us—not entirely. But he’s offering us a chance to prove ourselves. The decision rests with us now. As they say, adapt as needed."
The veteran smiled faintly. "Confident, isn’t he? Just like those arrogant nobles."
"What do you mean?" Yuta blinked.
"He doesn’t approve of our assumptions," Frein explained. "We believe he needs us, but he’s making it clear—he can manage with or without us. Still, he’s giving us a choice..."
"Tch." Yuta shot Antietta a glare. "Arrogant fool. Does he really think he can pull this off? If defending this place overnight guarantees victory without losing a single soldier, does he fancy himself Eck the Benevolent?" She scoffed softly.
Frein shook his head, recognizing the reference to Eck’s legendary conquest of the mountain folk. Whatever thoughts crossed his mind, he kept them to himself.
---
No one knew where Brandon was at that moment.
Both sides were mobilizing swiftly. Tagib had split his forces, sending countless cave dwellers and bear goblins streaming through Bearman Forest. From afar, the horde appeared as a vast gray tide blanketing the landscape.
Among the ranks were goblin riders—not underground dwellers but allies from nearby tribes. To Brandon, however, such lesser creatures were inconsequential. Leaning against a beech tree, he surveyed the valley below, watching the cave dwellers coalesce into a long, serpentine line.
"So many," Cinnabar murmured behind him, her amber eyes reflecting the scene. "There must be more than a thousand here. That baron clearly underestimated his foe. What a fool."
Brandon nodded. He and Cinnabar had landed hours ago, tracking the fleeing cave dwellers to this spot. These creatures, adapted to darkness, likely remained oblivious to the pair observing them from miles above.
This was a natural disadvantage for beings of Yhaggoroth—they thrived in pitch-black environments, relying on blindsight or limited daylight vision, rendering them unable to detect aerial threats.
In Vonder’s surface world, most reconnaissance units operated in the skies.
The young man tilted his head skyward, noting the pale hues of the clouds. It was still early; the cave dwellers wouldn’t launch their assault until the dead of night.
"What a massive force," Cinnabar murmured, frowning at the valley below. "Even Macaro would have trouble handling that...." She looked at Brandon. "So, what’s the plan?"
"Hmm, it seems the cave dwellers’ stronghold lies ahead—at Hazelwood Lumber Mill," Brandon replied cryptically.
"Huh?" Cinnabar blinked, turning to face him.
"We can’t approach from the air anymore," Brandon explained. "I didn’t expect them to recruit local goblins too."
"My lord, are you suggesting—" Amber eyes widened in surprise. "Isn’t that too reckless?"
"Don’t worry, I’ve done this before," Brandon smiled faintly. "But I’ll need your help, Cinnabar."
Cinnabar sighed. "An order, then, my lord?"
"Very well, as you wish." Brandon studied the fiery-haired girl with the crimson ponytail, nodding. "I command you to assist me, Cinnabar."
"And?" she prompted, lifting her chin.
"In my homeland, there’s an old saying," Brandon said. "Capture the leader, and the rest will fall."
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